Arthur

Arthur

Arthur opened his door and peered out, he called for my aunt; something was terribly wrong. Tired from a long summer day at the old ogre’s house we returned home. The phone rang at 2 A.M.; the answering machine picked up. The unmistakable raspy voice of my Aunt blurted out with desperation “It’s Art, he sounds like the exorcist!” I could hear the faint sound of the old man in the background. My Mother picked up the phone and told my Aunt to call an ambulance. “Get Dressed!” my Mom said; “We have to go to Danbury”. Tension filled the air; that ride was the longest twenty minutes I ever endured. When we arrived at the house an ambulance was parked out front. The man I knew lay with his tangled body on a stretcher. He called out to me to come over. For the first time this withered battle hero looked to me for strength. He made me promise not to leave his side. I assured him I would be there with him. I realized at this moment everything could change. With all his pain a smile came through. When we reached the hospital the picture that flooded my eyes was my fatigued grandfather clinging to life, in a bed too big for him. In the emergency room, the only sound I could hear was that of the artificial respirator which was attached to him. The only thing I could do was hold his hand tightly and try to control my tears. He grasped my hand much more tightly than I had imagined. I kept talking to him telling him his story I imagined him on that tarmac pulling a lifeless body out of the fiery plane. He gripped my hand like steel pliers. I knew he had the will to live.
The house my grandfather lived in was large, with open rooms and low ceilings. Just outside was a massive pond where my sister and I would capture turtles. My grandfather would always be happy to see our catch but he would then tell us to release the creatures back to their home. All day the old man would sit with a brown wool cap and a long sleeved jersey shirt waiting for me to come inside. He always had a...